


Captive Breeding Program (Furyan Bloodstock Remix)

by bironic



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Aphrodisiacs, Attempted Murder, Bad Medical Ethics, Breeding, Canon Disabled Character, Captivity, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Id Fic, Inspired by Fanfiction, Mary Sue, Murder, Mutual Non-Con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strangulation, Tropes, crude language, plot holes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bironic/pseuds/bironic
Summary: The next one they toss in is young. Not so young he wouldn't maybe have considered doing her if he'd come across her in a bar or a brothel or something, but still, he'd be surprised if she's finished all her schooling. Skinny. Short dark hair. Big, scared eyes. Legs left almost entirely bare by the little shift they've dressed her in. Nothing else but panties, looks like. No wonder she's hunched up and shivering.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I was struck by the desire to write a Riddick story in the style of those early-2000s X-Men movie fanfics where Wolverine and Rogue were imprisoned in Stryker's complex and forced to breed for his research program. (Ex: [The Cell](http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/fic/dbfiction.php?fiction_id=2053) by jjblazer.) I ended up making up a character because it didn't feel right to cast Jack as the person thrown into Riddick's cell. The words poured out, and I was well pleased with the result, but I was too embarrassed to share it, so it has been sitting on my hard drive for almost three years.
> 
> Now here we go.
> 
> Additional note: Riddick's voice was influenced by stories such as [The Things We Leave Behind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/260277) by Ratatosk.

Laughing and making crude remarks, they strip her down until she's wearing nothing but a blush, then hand her some kind of thin tunic and underwear. She can't get them on fast enough. The top doesn't cover much, but it's better than nothing.

Then they drag her through corridor after corridor, past a cacophony of whistles and calls and arms stretched through bars for a grope, until they reach an outrageously locked door at the end of the hall. It looks more like a bank safe than a prison cell.

They shove her in and slam the solid metal door shut behind her. Dimly, she hears them re-securing the chains and padlocks on the other side. Then it's quiet.

It's pitch black, and it's chilly. No one's in here but her. After a moment to try to calm herself, she inches backwards until her back hits the door. Then she feels around the floor and wall while she moves to the right. A circuit of the cell reveals a mat, a sink, a toilet and nothing else but stone.

The mat's probably infested. She curls up in a bare corner by the door and tries to keep warm until the inevitable happens.

*

The next one they toss in is young. Not so young he wouldn't maybe have considered doing her if he'd come across her in a bar or a brothel or something, but still, he'd be surprised if she's finished all her schooling. Skinny. Short dark hair. Big, scared eyes. Legs left almost entirely bare by the little shift they've dressed her in. Nothing else but panties, looks like. No wonder she's hunched up and shivering.

"A-are you Riddick?" she asks after the clatter has died down from his reentry. He rubs his wrists where the recently removed shackles chafed and weighs the advantages and disadvantages of just snapping her neck. They didn't like that the last time he did it, but he isn't exactly keen on doing what they like.

On the other hand, there's something about her that reminds him of Jack. Maybe something in her scent. Maybe because Jack's got to be about the same age by now. Instead of killing her, he turns away and takes a long piss, then follows it up with a long drink from the sink.

When he's done, he sits on his haunches against the wall opposite her and the door. "They tell you why you're here?"

She curls up tighter. "Yeah."

Silence. He drops into position and starts doing one-handed pushups.

Finally, she pipes up: "Are you going to d-do it, or what?"

Without pausing, he asks, "You wanna fuck?"

She takes a quick breath. "No. But they said—"

"Fuck 'em. I'm not breeding them a kid they can enslave."

A pause. "They said—they said you killed the other two women they put in a cell with you. Strangled one, and… and broke the other's neck."

"Mm." He switches to the other hand.

"…Is that what you're gonna do to me?"

"Haven't decided yet."

To her credit, she doesn't whimper. Softly—he can't remember the last time he met someone who spoke softly—she asks, "What'll happen to me, then?"

"Not my problem."

Another pause. "Maybe they'll let me go," she says, but she can't even say it like she believes it could happen.

He starts in on the second rep. "More likely they'll shoot you. After they pass you around for a while first. They don't get a lot of pretty girls in here."

Now he can smell the fear coming off her. "I don't want to die," she whispers.

"No choice. I leave you alone, they kill you because you're useless. I fuck you and it doesn't take, they either do the same or send you back in for more. I knock you up, they keep you locked down until it comes out and _then_ they kill you. If you're lucky, they'll let you live long enough to wean it."

"Maybe I'll escape," she says. He's pretty sure she's crying.

"Then every merc in the sector hunts you down."

Yeah, definitely crying. "That's not f-fair. I didn't even do anything."

"Welcome to the universe, kid."

He rolls onto his back and starts in on the sit-ups.

*

She can't see anything but the barest outlines; there's not enough light for her eyes to adjust to, only the seam around the door and the weird cat's-eye flashes of her cellmate. Her ankles hurt. Her back hurts. Her head hurts. She's freezing. But the worst thing is knowing that her lifespan just shrank to anywhere from nine months to one day, with or without getting raped a lot first. She can't get her brain around it. It can't be real. There has to be another way.

She figured out quickly enough that Riddick's doing some kind of exercises. After a long time—much longer than it takes her to stop sniffling—he winds down. There's the sound of running water. Then he settles with a grunt. Probably on the mat. If he's anywhere near as dangerous as the guards described, any creatures living in it won't dare bite him.

It's quiet for a while.

No matter how tightly she holds herself, her body heat continues to leach out of her into the stone. Her teeth start to chatter.

"If you're cold," Riddick rumbles, "you should move around. Do some jumping-jacks."

"I can't-t-t. They sprained my ankles or s-something."

He makes an unidentifiable noise.

After another little while, he says, "Come here."

She tenses up. "Why?"

"Keep you warm."

 _Or snap my neck_ , she thinks. "I'm fin-n-ne." The stutter makes it an obvious lie.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. And if I were, wouldn't matter what corner of the cell you tried to hide in."

This time, she can't tell if the shiver's from the cold or from the easy confidence in his words.

"My name is Meera," she says. It feels important for him to know. So maybe she can seem like more of a person to him and not a womb thrown at him by guards he must hate way more than she does.

She unfolds herself and slowly crawls over toward the twin points of Riddick's eyes.

And gasps when he grabs her arms faster than she can register, stopping her short.

"Don't move," he murmurs, inches from her face; his unearthly gaze bores into hers and she can both feel and smell his breath. She doesn't move.

Then his hands are all over her. She flinches, but he's quick and light and less invasive than the guards were. Oh; he's patting her down for weapons.

She laughs without meaning to. "You think they'd send me in here to try to kill _you_?" The idea that she'd have a chance is ludicrous.

"Never know," he says. "Get close enough, skill matters less." His hands fall away. "Do I need to check your cunt?"

Her heart kicks. "N-no. Jesus."

"Ass?"

" _No_."

"No. The only thing they want in you is my cock, right?" He sounds amused.

She doesn't know what to say or do. Her heart's still pounding.

This time he's the one who laughs. He gets her in his grip again and she flails, sending shooting pains up her legs each time her heels hit the floor. From the fleeting impressions she gets of his body as she struggles, he's as big as his voice made him sound, broad and muscled and radiating heat. Hopelessly strong.

Eventually, it registers that all he's done is tucked her in against him so they're lying on their sides on the mat with his chest at her back. She forces herself to go still in his arms.

He's not even breathing hard.

"Go to sleep," he says. She can feel the vibration of his voice in his chest.

*

The kid doesn't drop off for hours, but she must want him to think she's asleep, because she doesn't move or say anything the whole time, just breathes and shivers with her heart running like a mouse's until she finally warms up and calms down.

He thinks again about breaking her neck. He thinks about smothering her, holding her tight against him with his hand over her mouth and nose while the life drains out of her straining body. Thinks about fucking her and then smothering her. She's young enough she might still be a virgin. He thinks about muffling her cries as he thrusts and thrusts into achingly tight pussy no other man has touched.

Doesn't act on any of it. He wants to see what the fuckers'll do if he lets her live a night.

He'll probably kill her if they come to take her away. Not fair to the kid to send her off for what's bound to be an ugly gangbang and even uglier end just 'cuz he doesn't want to fuck her himself. A quick, clean death is the best she can hope for.

The guards won't be anywhere near that lucky when he comes for them.

Mm. Kid's hair smells nice. Like the outside. Fresh air and something vegetal. It's been a long time since he walked on a habitable surface.

Meera, she said. Seems like a normal kid. Obviously new to the joke that is the Allied penal system. He wonders how she got into this clusterfuck.

Not for long; he lets himself doze for a few hours. Wakes when locks click. Rolls so the girl's between him and the door; if they shoot, they'll stun her first and give him an extra second or two. Meera makes a confused sound as she wakes.

But an open door isn't in the plan, it seems; only the food slot slides open. The barrel of a gun appears. Riddick pitches to the side, but he's not expecting the overhead lights to flick on at full brightness. He throws an arm over his eyes with a shout—Meera falls away from him—there's the whuff of some kind of shot going off—something stings his shoulder—a guard laughs—

The slot clangs shut again, and a moment later the lights go off.

Blinking away afterimages, Riddick plucks out the dart and chucks it at the sink. No way to tell what they've given him until it kicks in. Which it maybe won't. Usually takes more than one tranq for him to even feel it.

"What was that?" Meera asks shakily.

"They get you too?" A glance over the parts of her he can see doesn't reveal any telltale marks.

"What do you mean?"

No, then. "Shot me with some kind of drug. Maybe nothing to worry about." He sits up.

And feels… odd. Okay, maybe something to worry about.

Meera's sitting a few feet away. She still smells good. Really good.

She shifts and winces, and another wave of fresh-trees-woman-sex rolls off her. His nostrils flare and the hairs on the backs of his arms prickle. It makes him want to tackle her to the floor and bury his face between her legs, nosing into her until she's all he can smell. He wonders if she'll taste as good when he eats her out. Pictures himself spreading her out and pushing into her over and over while she fights him. Wet and hot and crying until she arches and comes, clenching around him. His cock stirs.

Meera's voice cuts in. "Are you okay?"

Riddick shakes his head to clear it.

Shit. Aphrodisiac.

*

"Get away from me," Riddick growls.

She hesitates. It's enough time for him to grab her wrist and grind her hand into what feels like his crotch. He's hard. Oh. _Oh._

Just when she realizes she won't be able to break his grip, he shoves her away. She falls back onto one arm.

"Get as far away from me as you can before I do exactly what they warned you about," he says as fiercely as before.

She doesn't know if he means the raping or the killing, but she scrambles back as fast as she can until she's wedged in the farthest corner of the cell.

He must have shut his eyes, because she can't see them. She can only listen to his heavy breaths and what sounds like clothing rustling, punctuated by low swearing. Time passes. More rustling. A wet, fleshy sound. Rhythmic. With a jolt, she realizes he's touching himself. Is he trying to get himself off instead of assaulting her? The guards all called him a monster, but what kind of monster does that?

His breathing quickens, catches, and then he groans. She thinks she hears his release spatter the mat, but she may be imagining it.

She's about to ask if he's all right when he rumbles, "You are fucking kidding me." A sudden noise startles her; she thinks he punched something. The jerking-off sounds start up again.

She stays in her corner, quiet and trembling. Too much to hope he'll forget she's there. But as the minutes tick by and Riddick's obvious frustration builds, she starts to change her thinking. If he has sex with her—if he has sex with her and doesn't kill her immediately afterwards—she has a chance to live. He says he doesn't want to have a kid, and she certainly doesn't want to get attacked, but she does want to live, and this may be her best shot. Also, she feels kind of bad for him, suffering under the influence of whatever's running through his bloodstream.

She musters all the bravery she can find and moves toward him.

"Freeze," he says. Some animal response in her can't help but obey a command so intense.

She swallows hard and starts moving again.

Riddick growls and tackles her. 

The next moments are a blur of pain and confusion. When she comprehends what's happening again, she's face-down on the mat and Riddick's tearing off her underwear. Even though she wanted this, sort of, she instinctually tries to pull away. He's holding her head down, hard, reeking of musk—he's huge and hot between her legs—his other hand is there, fumbling, and then she cries out as he breaches her all in one go.

Holy _fuck_ , it hurts. At first, she's so stunned she goes absolutely still. Then, knocked back into action by his knifing thrusts, she kicks and scrabbles at anything she can reach. But with his other hand now pinning her forearm and with his legs spreading hers wide, she can't escape as he grunts into her hair and drives her mercilessly into the mat. There's nothing to look at to distract her. Only the feel and smell and sound of Riddick, in her and above her and around her. She sobs.

It may only last a few minutes, but when he finally groans and comes inside her, she feels as wrecked as if they've been doing this for hours. 

After a minute, she whimpers into the mat, "Let me go."

Riddick pulls out and rolls her over. His eyes are smudges through her tears. "Sorry, kid," he says. He brushes damp hair off the side of her face. "Spit."

She takes a shaky breath. "What?"

"Spit in my hand." It's right by her mouth.

She has no idea what he's talking about. She just wants the burning to stop. She needs to get away from him.

"Kid. Meera." He pushes her down again when she tries to roll on her side. "I'm trying to make this easier on you."

Vaguely, she thinks what would make this easier is if he'd let her crawl over to the sink. 

He sighs and spits on his own fingers, then touches them to her sore opening.

Her stomach drops. "No…”

"One more time. I think that's it."

"No," she says, and despite herself she's crying again. "Please."

He holds her gaze as he keeps on touching her. She thinks maybe he deserves to be called a monster after all.

*

His head is starting to clear enough for him to think past _fuck now fuck now fuck NOW_. Enough for him to think it might be a better idea to take her mouth or ass this time, where there's no chance of putting Riddick Jr. in her. But given what just happened, he's going to have to kill her anyway, and her cunt in the first round was as tight as he'd hoped, so why the hell shouldn't he enjoy it while he can?

Meera's still crying, but she's not trying as hard as before to get away, and she finally spits when he asks her a goddamn fourth time, now that she understands what it's for. She's roughed up and bleedin', so he tries to go slow. It's still like a haze in his brain and his dick, though. Makes it hard to concentrate.

Fuck, she feels good. Wet clutch. Clamping down on him now and then like she's hungry for it. Hot and writhing. Doesn't matter that it's out of pain or fear instead of passion. Smell of cunt and jizz and sweat filling the cell, filling his head, going straight back down to his dick. He leans in and thrusts faster. Can't help it. She's small; easy to hold down. His hips and thighs are enough to keep her lower body contained, and he gets her wrists over her head in one hand. Tiny wrists. Bones like a bird's. She's makin' these sexy little high-pitched noises as he ruts into her. Trying to hide her face in her arm. 

He rucks up her shift and she lets out a sob. Oh, yeah. Long torso, breasts hardly more than a palmful each in this position. She squirms when he kneads one. He rubs a thumb over and over the raised nipple. Drags his fingers down her front all the way to her clit. Rolls it a few times. She flinches and makes another noise. Doesn't sound like she likes it. Just as well; he's getting close again, doesn't have much time. 

He lets go of her wrists and works her arms through the shift sleeves so she's naked except around her throat. Wraps the fabric around his forearm and wrist until the slack is gone. Then twists it tighter. Tighter. Meera's eyes and mouth go huge and she shoves and claws at him. Can't budge him, of course. Her nails barely sting. Sound of the guards trying to get in. He can't stop. Needs to come. Soon. Needs to make sure the girl doesn't leave this cell alive with his seed in her. 

One hand wringing the air out of her, the other trapping one of her straining arms, holding him up. Sweet, sweet cunt. Balls tight. Final thrusts. Vision going indistinct. Five, four, three… 

Brief white-out as he shoots into her. Drug-driven pleasure-relief like he's dying. He pulls the cloth even tighter as he shudders through the high.

Guards burst in, stunners already firing. First blast hits him in the shoulder. Same fucking shoulder they shot the dart into. Riddick shuts his eyes right before they turn on the goddamn lights and doesn't let up his hold on the girl's windpipe. Not even when they stun him a second time, and a third, even though he starts to feel the effects. Not even when, shouting, they try to pull him off her. 

It takes another half-dozen blasts or so before they're able to knock him flat and pry his fist open. Vaguely he registers them pulling the girl from under him. He can only hope he finished the job as they stun him a few more times into unconsciousness.

*

She's never been so terrified, so desperate to stay alive, as when Riddick wraps her shirt around her neck and starts to strangle her. Even though she's almost frozen from the waist down with the agony of his assault, she fights him like she's never fought anything in her life. She wants to live. She wants to _live_.

The desperation is inconceivable. Her head pulses hard with trapped blood. He's crushing her throat, and she can't even cough against it. She can't draw in any air. None. She can't budge Riddick. Riddick, who through it all keeps shoving his dick into her, rivaling the pain at her throat and in her spasming chest. Her vision's dimming, tunneling, her struggles weakening. She's going to be victim number three, and there's nothing she can do about it.

She's not coherent enough to comprehend what the commotion means when it hits. There's motion and sound, and then an enormous weight on top of her that would have pressed the breath out of her if she'd had any. Hands grab at her. Too many to only be Riddick's. She still can't breathe. She tries to move, but she's too weak. Is she already dead? 

She's being dragged out from under the weight. The stranglehold around her neck relaxes and the pressure in her head drops. The cloth is stripped away. Fingers massage her traumatized throat. Whole terrifying seconds pass when her body can't remember how to suck in air. 

Then the miracle: Her neck arches and a thin stream of sweet oxygen makes it past her swollen throat into her lungs with a horrible wheeze. In, out, in again, each tiny, searing breath a triumph. Sight dissolves back soon after. It's bright in the cell. So bright. Her whole body hurts. She's still not getting enough air.

"All right, she's breathing, let's move!" says one of the guards. 

Her head lolls as she's lifted and she sees a body lying on the stone. Riddick. So that's what he looks like. Some of the guards are still stunning him even though he's not moving. 

She's being carried out of the cell. "Leave him," says the same guard. "Priority is getting her stabilized in the med bay."

All at once she remembers what Riddick said they're going to do to her. She jerks in the guards' hold, suddenly aware again that she's naked and that some of what Riddick left inside her is oozing between her legs. She's alive, but what's coming next?

"Hold her still," someone snaps, and their grip tightens.

She tries to call Riddick's name but her voice is ruined, bloody raw, an incomprehensible whisper-croak. As much as she wants to live, she panics at the thought of being tied down for months and forced to gestate whatever may result from this forced coupling. She doesn't want to find out she's not pregnant after all and face the wrath of their captors. She'd rather stay here and take her chances with the notorious murderer who was actually kind of decent to her until she became a threat to him. " _Riddick!_ " Still barely audible. 

But Riddick is down for the count, and the guards slam the door shut between them. She hears the locks and chains clang back into place as the others carry her away.

*

It takes him another six weeks to get out.

They send in more women in the meantime. He doesn't make the same mistake with any of them; kills them quickly. So the fuckers chain him down and dose him before they throw in the next few, and there's no way to stop himself from burying his desperate cock to the hilt when the poor shaking wretches climb on top of him. The guards take the women away dripping with three or four rounds of his seed while Riddick shouts and tries to break the steel shackles. He doesn't know how many of them are imprisoned somewhere on this godforsaken station growing his children. He doesn't know what happened to Meera.

The day he finally gets his break, he leaves a trail of bloody and/or charred bodies behind him as he makes his way from the cell to the docking airlocks. Just one stop before he leaves this place burning in his ion wake.

Riddick kicks down the infirmary door and shoots everybody in a uniform except one. The last doc cooperates fast then. Takes Riddick through a locked door in back into a room where three women in gowns lie unconscious on med beds, hooked up to a crazy assortment of tubes and machines. The redhead and the plump one he remembers through the haze of the drug. The third is Meera.

Shit. He can't carry them all off the station with him. There's only one alternative.

He has to press the double-barreled laser pistol to the soft spot under the man's jaw before he'll do it, but Riddick makes the doc turn up the sedative drip at the first bed until the woman flatlines. She goes peacefully, at least. 

Then he shoots the guy. Fucking disgrace of a healer, keeping innocent women prisoner to bear children neither they nor the father wanted. 

_Father_. God damn it. 

Riddick mirrors what the doc did to the instruments and maxes out the sedative on the second bed. Looks over at Meera while the monitors screech.

Clean kill, clean escape; that's the safest route. But there's still something about her that makes him hesitate. He thinks about her will to survive, how she crawled over to him in the dark despite knowing he would brutalize her.

Ten minutes later, he's dumping a blanket-wrapped Meera, an overstuffed med kit and two of his three stolen guns onto a bunk at the back of a six-seat plasma cruiser. Five minutes after that, they're on their way to the next solar system.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to Dreamwidth at <http://bironic.dreamwidth.org/343538.html>.


End file.
